Perfect Equals
by PurpleYin
Summary: what's the purpose of life? noone knows, but someone thinks they've found it and they'd do almost anything to get it


Perfect Equals by Purpleyin 

Disclaimer: no I don't own seven days etc, am only borrowing them.

A/N:This fic is set no where in particular and I'm not aware of any spoilers in as of yet. Also I've been menaing to write more, even have a good idea of what should bein the next chapter, just need to writ eit out. Sorry if anyone is waiting for it. I've been preoccupied with other fics and exams etc. but promise the next chapter will be up within easter. Hope that's not too long to wait.

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It had to get it right. He jostled the calculations in his mind, idling out the possibilities. He was getting closer to a result, all he needed was one more. The dream was only a hands grasp away. Perfection, the fabric of the cosmos, of existence. The one true purpose was to get yourself closer to this brilliant being. Modern day thinking hijacked it into a 5 mile golden pedestal leading up into the sky, going back to medieval beliefs of Gods and heroes as the only ones capable of it, or worse. To apathy. To atheism. Not just not caring, not just not believing in a God. Worse, infinitely more grave than that. Not caring about people, about their purpose. Not believing in perfection, giving up on it. Saying no-one can achieve such a goal and thinking of such; making you into the naïve fool. No. They were all cynical. It wasn't just science, it was **_everythin_g**. It couldn't be explained by one simple term, terminology had at no time held any use for him. He could say it wasn't science and it wasn't religion. It was more about purity. Idealism and bettering mankind. Problem was no one cared enough anymore, thought the task impossible at the slightest struggle. Well not everyone gives up, a few are eternally in debt to the cause. A cause he could not deny his calling for. He didn't believe in destiny or higher being. Just perfection. Ultimate state,…. demands the ultimate sacrifice….

Sighing sadly he recalled the hesitation he had recited upon cogitating and mulling over the plan, it was flawless. He just wished.. it wasn't so…so…. so…. trying, unyielding. As if something told him there ought to be another way. He carries on noting the figures in the small blue leather notepad that rested on the stained wooden desk; and glancing up every so often to a screen, on top of the stand resting over the desk, he barely thought once about that sacrifice and about choices…… After all he was the one taking, they were to give. Unwillingly and unknowingly but nevertheless they were going to be the ones bettering mankind. Through him it was, but to _be_ them was too much to express in words, he was envious. Or would have been if he'd had time to think it through in any other way than the meditative and analytical way he'd been thinking for the last 2 years. Timing was the most vital factor in the whole episode. It needed precisely the right moment….  

Across the desk Miss. Vukavitch sat absent-mindedly playing with her pen, paying hardly any attention to the meeting and only glancing roughly at the printed report that lay on the glass table at an angle, facing the head seat which Talmadge was leaning into from his upright position behind the chair. Nothing of much importance was being said, the meeting was about nothing in particular and soon to round off as Talmadge edged unconsciously closer to his right millimetre by millimetre while he gave his briefing. The voice droned on and on relentlessly, sounding evermore like it too was being bored by the subject of which it spoke. Dull, lifeless syllables treading on sleepy toes and hands. The pen slipped, her reflexes not fast enough to catch it in time. It made a vibrant noise that echoed in the dead room. All eyes turning to her except one pair, who'd been watching her all along with a troubled expression on his face. A very hard to read face though and had she seen his expression her hazy eyes would most likely not have been able to read what it said. A shame really for they never had the chance. Instead she glanced around the table at the several sets of eyes presently coveting her and by the time they reached right the way round to him, he'd wiped his face clean of emotions good, bad, revealing or anything of substance. He just looked back while she turned her attention to Talmadge who appeared to have been waiting for something.

Everyone turned their concentration back to him as he ended the conference. No one noticing how Parker's eyes darted casually over in her direction, spying for signs notable of concern. Clocking over what was up, what could possibly take Olga's attention like that. Put an end to all conscious thought and, put her in a position were she ended up daydreaming, sitting with a faraway forlorn air to her features and to her person an appearance of introverted meditation, reflection almost. What was up with her? 

Olga strode out of the room in the direction of the lab, she needed privacy now. And lab work was just the thing to occupy her mind, stop her from thinking about it too much. The plan was to walk quickly to her office, gather some notes and then go to the lab to work on the medical tests she had to do before having a look at….Oh no. She'd forgotten but she'd made an appointment with parker, to look over the past few weeks test results. He was the last person she wanted to see now. He'd wriggle the truth right out of her. It wasn't anything especially to do with him… but she hadn't wanted to discuss it with anyone. She knew he'd catch on and that he would only be voicing his concerns, being a good friend but……she simply wanted peace. Silence and room for thought. She wouldn't get that anywhere near parker. She'd have to tell him she was busy with the medicals, they were short staffed after all, it would add up, maybe he'd even buy it.

"Hey Olga" his brow furrowing as he walked toward her, her back facing him. She hadn't turned around, it seemed strange.

She straightened herself out and waited until he was close before she turned to see him. Composing herself for inspection.

"What can I do for you Mr.Parker"

Her voice sounded unusually cold, speculative. Like it had given up on the question and instead made it a statement not to be messed with. It said 'this had better be good' all in one.

Parker tried to act normal as he said "Just wanted to make sure you're ok for this afternoon. The test results, you said you'd go through" there was a slight pause between sentences and a brief nervous glance to the floor, his shoes. Now was not a good time to ask what was wrong with her, she wouldn't appreciate any probing into what ever the issue was. He held on for a declamation. Something like she was tired or stressed, had a load of work. Something that meant he hadn't stuffed up somehow and not noticed. Mind you, Olga usually said something back if you'd been jackass or offended her. She wasn't normally this quiet. She didn't talk loads but there was her ever-present air of Olga, the way she appeared, efficient and organized. Being distracted, no.

"I'm so sorry Mr.Parker, we will have to put that meeting on hold. I have a lot of work to do. We are short staffed and I have a pile of medicals to go through. Next Tuesday though, will that be fine?" she hoped he'd not see through the façade. Once that he'd leave it as what she said.

"sure", he jaggedly backed away a few steps before retreating around the corner of the corridor in the other direction.

He did.

He left it.  

He held a tight grimace that pulled his lips together. He cursed himself mentally for not being better at the task in hand, the enormity had distracted him. Excitement at the closeness of it. The papers had been on the right work surface. The samples. That had been intentional. There was only one missing out of the batch, the one he needed. Every other sample was still there and organised in alphabetical order as before he had …meddled… with them. That brought a satisfied grin to his face. It was proving to be fun, playing quite the detective. Breathing returned to normal slowly when she shrugged the inconsistencies off and wandered to the computer, sat down and began to process some report or such like. This would have been a good opportunity for him but the plan was to let her settle in for a while. So the raid would be more surprising and give her less time to react. Another consideration was the glass screen at a right angle to the corner the desktop display inhabited. There was a remote chance she might look up at the same moment. And he would take no chances. Timing needed to be correct, it was essential. Worth waiting for.

Frank B. Parker sat face down on the bed apparently absorbed in another one of the many books he'd read over the past 2 years at the backstep facility. Catching up on reading had partly been about the boredom he faced as a result of being holed up in the NNL three quarters of the time with but a couple of field trips and missions. The other reason was his love of books. A love rarely known by any whom he called his friends. They saw him reading. They knew he read 60% of the time, when he wasn't training, drinking, gambling or doing the endless medical exams and psychological tests – to determine if he was near flipping out again, presumably. They did not however, catch onto the fact that he _enjoyed_ reading. Relished the classics, more recently "The Time Machine", mostly out of humour and irony than the legendary status acclaimed. The list was limitless. From "The Merchant of Venice" to "Gormenghast" and "Lord of the Flies". British, American, classics, comedy and a vast amount of science fiction largely due to his fascination with his occupation. The theories from those…He'd shake his head, a lop sided smile forming. They scaled laughable to ridiculous and down right absurd. The minority touched upon the truth, not that anyone in the population knew that.

Books weren't on his mind right now. It was occupied with the one and unique Olga Vukavitch. And what was bothering the distinctive person for whom nothing was an un-sizeable problem. 


End file.
